Being nourished by my own voice

It’s been several months since I have written on my blog.  I’ve been having a tough time and have needed (and continue to need) deep quiet time.

Just this week, I remembered how nourishing it is for me to read my own words.  I was feeling the nudge to write again, which I haven’t felt for some time.

Writing gives me a chance to spend time with myself, open up wellsprings of thoughts and feelings, and feel myself healing as I let the words flow from and through me.

I sometimes start writing with a topic in mind and other times, I can feel some pressure or tension that is seeking liberation, and writing often soothes those feelings.

Over the last 10 years, I’ve been learning about loving myself and being compassionate with myself.  It’s been incredibly rewarding to make changes in my life towards greater self-love and self-compassion.  Recently though, I discovered how hard I was still being on myself and how judgemental I was being. 

I have struggled with my physical and mental health for most of my life.  I would describe myself as being at rock bottom this year.  And yet, it’s taken being here, at the bottom, to truly see how deep-rooted my self-judgement has been. 

I have been doing a lot of work in therapy, including art therapy, and its really teaching me how to become an even safer space for myself.  To acknowledge what I have survived, what I learned as a result, and to have compassion for the scars and the pain I have. 

Late last week, I started feeling like a failure because I haven’t “cured” myself of my debilitating chronic fatigue syndrome.  I’ve had this thought over and over for years.  Through what I learned in art therapy, I finally saw how judgemental that was of me and I chose to give myself more compassion instead.  It’s been a nice change.

I know there is a long road ahead for me that requires patience, compassion, rest, love and time.  I am finally starting to feel worthy of giving myself all of that and knowing that my life matters even through this time of rock bottom.

And so I write.  I create art.  I breathe.  I cry.  I rest.  I hear the whispers of my heart and the forest as they guide me.  I complete my disability paperwork and feel all the tough feelings.  I laugh.  I garden.  I sit.  I mourn.  I decompose and wait to see what grows. 

Thanks for reading ♥️.

©️ Bradlee Zrudlo, 2025.  All Rights Reserved.